Leave The Zombie Slaying To The Experts
by Inuyashagirl7692
Summary: Human AU A group of zombie slayers is formed by the representatives of their nations, then sent into the depths of the Russian wilderness to find a secret facility where the last hope for Humanity's survival may lie Zombietalia
1. Prologue: Courting Danger

_In order to combat the growing threat presented by the hordes of reanimated corpses, an international team of elite slayers was formed. Due to the toll taken on the human population, the elite slayers were chosen from a selection of healthy survivors, with the ones best fit to fight, based on their youth and their skill, handpicked by their countries' top representative. It was the world's hope that this team could find the ground zero of the outbreak, and by finding it, discover a way to stop the zombie horde from claiming any more lives._

_Members Chosen: Alfred F. Jones, Matthew Williams, Arthur Kirkland, Francis Bonnefoy, Ivan Braginski, Natalia Braginski, Feliciano Vargas, Lovino Vargas, Antonio Fernandez Carriedo, Honda Kiku, Wang Yao, Gilbert Beilschmidt, and Ludwig Beilschmidt_

* * *

The bullet tore a clean hole through sinew, flesh, and bone, just as it had been forged to, but it missed the cranium, slicing through the cheek instead, and that wasn't anywhere near enough to stop the moving corpse's onslaught.

The corpse had been a woman once. She'd had two children and a job in an office as a secretary. Now, she barely had enough flesh on her bones to identify her as human, let alone a woman.

Alfred refused to run, though he wouldn't have been able to at that point even if he'd wanted to. The monster was far too close for that. Lucky for him, his brother just happened to be waiting in the bushes a few yards away, and a skilled sniper.

The zombie's head exploded in an eruption of blood and gore, showering Alfred's face in its sticky coating until he needed to wipe his glasses just to be able to see clearly again.

"Gross," he grumbled, then added, shouting over his shoulder, "Hell of a shot, Mattie. I owe ya one."

"More like a hundred, Alfred.


	2. The Braginski Chapter

Ten years before Hell overflowed, three children lived with their stepfather on the outskirts of St. Petersburg.

_"What are you kids doing here?" He'd ask, slurring his words after a long night of drinking. "Get out now!"_

_"But we'll die if we go into the snow!" Katyusha, the oldest, would always stand up to him, always trying to protect her younger brother and sister._

The cabin Ivan, Natalia, and Katyusha lived in was often cold. A shoddy heater and a hearth was all that stood between them and freezing to death during the cold Russian winter.

_One night, the door banged ferociously against the doorframe, powered by the storm winds that raged against the cabin walls. The children waited patiently for the only adult whose presence, however violent it may have sometimes been, offered at least of modicum of comfort._

_However, when the door was finally thrust open, the hand that opened it was ashen._

It was in that cabin that the children encountered their first zombie.

_Mr. Braginski shambled into the cabin the way he always did after a night of drinking, but there was something off about it. Instead of yelling the second he entered the house, he hung his head low, only uttering a soft moan after long intervals of silence. Something primal told Ivan, a child with hair the color of starlight, not to approach the man, but his siblings needed food, they needed water, and if that meant asking a drunk man to go back into the snow, then so be it._

_As Ivan approached the man, he raised his head, revealing dull, sightless eyes, a whitish film covering the black they used to fear._

Now, everyone knows what a zombie looks like. They usually have rotting flesh, and they smell of putrefaction, but someone who really knows a zombie, who's looked into their dead, dull eyes and seen the nothingness that lives there would know that they reek of not just death, but life as well. A zombie smells like fear, like urine and the last gasps of life their former selves must have drawn before they succumbed to either their wounds or the virus.

_As Katyusha, sometimes called Kat by her siblings, and Natalia watched, their stepfather lunged towards Ivan, jaw open to reveal all of his blackened teeth. Ivan dodged, swerving to the right and left as Kat tried to talk some sense back into their stepfather._

_"What are you doing? Stop this!"_

_"Stop!" Natalia cried, adding her voice to Ivan's startled shouts and Mr. Braginski's hungry moans._

_A sharp pain in Ivan's side halted his retreat. Without even noticing, he'd backed into a chair. Usually this momentary halt wouldn't matter, but it gave just enough of a pause for Mr. Braginski to take his prey. Or it would have, if Katyusha hadn't jumped into the middle._

_Powerful jaws clamped down on her small shoulder, just as Natalia shattered a chair against her stepfather's head. The zombie slumped to the ground, dragging his stepchild down with him._

_Natalia and Ivan worked together to pry the jaws that had already set in rigor mortis off of their sister. She managed to tear herself away, but it only did more damage to the oozing wounds on her shoulder. The tears in her shirt revealed several deep wounds that appeared to have already become infected, the veins around the punctures looking as though they had been stained with an ink that was spreading throughout her body._

_Ivan gathered his sister up into his arms._

_"Natalia, get some bandages" he called, sending his sister running._

Ivan smelled that when he looked into the eyes of his turned stepfather, a man he'd hated for as long as he could remember, and he smelled it again when he looked into the eyes of his older sister after she'd breathed her last in his arms.

_Her face ashen, Katyusha forced rattling gasps into her throat, bu the more time passed, the weaker she became. They tried to stop the blood by tying socks, towels, anything they could find around the wound, but nothing seemed to staunch the flood that flowed out of her wound and over their hands. Eventually, their sister simply closed her eyes, looking more peaceful in death than she ever had in life._

_…Then she woke up._

_The ghost of a smile flitted across Ivan's face, until her head reared back, eyes bottomless pits, to bite his neck. To Ivan, killing the thing his sister had become was like killing her a second time, and…_

It broke him into tiny pieces, scattered across the floor. Even after he'd left that cabin with his sister, Natalia, burned it to the ground; the pieces had all been left behind him. They never returned and they never fit back together.

Just like her brother, Natalia was broken, too. That's why, for ten years, she has never left her brother's side. She fears losing him, her last family member, more than any monster the world could possibly offer her.

And that's why she'll kill anything that gets between them.


	3. Francis and Arthur

The sickly stench of wet grass wafted up the noses of the two young men as they searched the depths of the wood for stray zombies, or nomads, as they liked to call them.

"Still playing with your toy bow and arrow, Arthur?" One of the men asked the other, his French accent heavy. "When are you going to get a sword? I can't keep protecting you all the time, you know."

Radioactive green eyes fixed themselves in a glare. After all the years Francis and Arthur had spent hunting together, the French fop still loved to maniacally press all of the Englishman's buttons.

At twenty-three years old, Arthur was three years Francis' junior, but they interacted like equals. This was because they'd grown up together as neighbors in England, before the Catastrophe took their parents away.

Francis's parents were immigrants from France who had moved to England when Arthur was seven years old, and although neither of them would ever admit it, Arthur and Francis were actually childhood friends. Why else would they have chosen to hunt zombies together for the past ten years?

However much they got on each other's nerves, if one was in trouble, the other would come running, ready to save the day and then rub it in the other's face.

Presently, Francis had just saved Arthur from a zombie that had snuck up behind him, thrusting his fleuret over Arthur's shoulder and through the monster's frontal lobe.

The reason why Francis was annoyed at Arthur's choice of long distance weapon was because, although it did make a great compliment to Francis' short-range saber, it also meant Arthur could barely defend himself if a zombie came within a short range. Their teamwork usually made the long range weapon more of an asset than a hindrance, and new weapons, such as guns and swords, were hard to find due to most of them already being scavenged by other hunters and scared civilians, so Francis' complaints were mostly just him venting his frustration at having almost not been there in time. If he had been a second later, Arthur would have had an open, flowing gash in his neck, and then he'd have been lost.

Still, the words hurt. Not like daggers but more like tiny pinpricks, not very noticeable, but still annoying.

"I never asked you to protect me, Frog." Arthur retorted, falling back on the old nickname the way a child might fall back on a night-light or a security blanket.

There was a moment of uncomfortable silence as Francis searched for the right words to say and tried to run a hand through his hair. _Tried _being the operative word because neither of them had bathed in days. Strand of tawny straw was what passed for hair on Arthur's forehead, and Francis' usually luxurious hair was like sticks of wheat. Both of them just wanted to finish collected the fifteen heads the job they'd accepted had asked for and then walk back to the village with their wheel barrow filled with them. The wheelbarrow it self was waiting for them on the road, stinking of rot and surrounded by flies, thanks to the heads it already carried.

The two boys had left the village the stayed at once the sun rose over the horizon. They'd gone ten miles so they could find the nearest zombies, which were actually being over hunted in their parts. It was fortunate for the people who only wanted to rebuild, but unfortunate for hunters who made their pay from slaughtering the nasty walkers and bringing in their heads for cash.

Every week, the two felt like they needed to walk farther and farther to find any decent prey. This made them more vulnerable to an attack from other hunters, and if they got too exhausted, to an attack from a stray zombie. One bite was enough. That's all it took to end a life.

Ten years ago, one bite was what took Arthur's parents away. And that bite? It came from their friendly neighbors… the Bonnefoy's. Even though it wasn't Francis' fault, he never stopped blaming himself for what happened.

That day, Francis swore he'd protect his friend, no matter what.

So, yeah, maybe Arthur had never asked to be protected. That didn't mean he wasn't going to be.

Arthur waited for Francis to say something, and when he didn't, he simply turned around to retrieve the machete from the wheelbarrow. There was a satchel hanging from the side of the faded red wheelbarrow, and that was where they kept the machete they used to behind the corpses they incapacitated.

Going about his work quietly, Arthur sawed three heads from the corpses around them, two male, one female, as his friend simply sat on the road.

A beat of wings in the distance drew their attention.


	4. The Beat Of Wings

As the afternoon sun rose sweat began to bead on the skin of the two brothers. Alfred scanned the area before running back to his brother, who was still positioned in the bushes, and giving the all clear. Then the two of them walked back to the family waiting in the carriage they'd been hired to guard.

Four wan faces peered out at them as Alfred stripped off the bomber jacket he'd nicked from his dad's closet and Matthew unslung his rifle.

"The coast is clear." Matthew said, causing the man holding his wife and two daughters to breath a sigh of relief. They watched him climb out of the carriage's tarped back and head back to the front with mild interest. The man, named Robert, was in his late 40's. His wife was named Lisa, and their two daughters were a brunette and a steely blond, named Mary and Elizabeth respectively.

After the horses were pulled away from the grass, they began to move forward, dragging the carriage along with them. The brothers walked beside the carriage, constantly scanning the forest for anything they could have missed.

The family was a group of merchants. They traded food, antiques, and basic furniture. A decade ago, they would have been driving a truck, but since there was no one left to pump the gas or dig for fossil fuels, the human population had to go without vehicles and electricity for the most part. When the people went, the power went, and when the power went, what was left of the population was driven about two hundred years backwards.

There was a group that thought the Catastrophe, whatever it was that brought the dead back, was God's doing. Local folks called that group The Church of the Dead. They always preached that those who refused to give their lives and land to the zombies were sinners, that the Catastrophe was some sort of Rapture. Rumors spread, saying that the members of the church would prowl around open roads, looking for people to sacrifice to their… angels. Whenever Alfred thought about those people his hackles would rise.

He'd never had to kill a living human before. Sure, he'd been prepared to once. Couple years back a man tried to claim his and Matthew's haul for himself, tried to steal it, but he stopped trying after Alfred nearly beat him to death. Sometimes, the living could be just as much a threat as the dead were.

"How much longer 'til we get there?" One of the girls asked. It could have been Mary… or Elizabeth. Alfred couldn't see them behind the tarp, and he wasn't about to check since he was pretty sure their father made sure they couldn't be seen by him or his brother for a reason, and though Alfred could appreciate the effort, he knew a tarp would do nothing against a real threat against his children. Still, he'd respect their client's wishes, and maybe tell him the many uses for firearms, later.

Smiling back at the silhouettes of his daughters and wife, the man gestured toward the horizon, saying, "When the sun reaches that line way out past the forest, we'll have reached the town."

A contented sigh was all he got in reply as the girls settled down in their blankets. Matthew smiled at the sound as he tried to remember a time when he and his brother had been that innocent. Instead of softness, Matthew saw only hard lines when he looked at his brother.

"Dude, stop staring. You're creepin' me out." Matthew bit back a sarcastic retort with difficulty.

"Alfred…" Matthew started. Alfred started.

He knew that tone. It was the tone his brother always used when he wanted to be all serious and gloomy.

The slender teen hushed his tone so their clients wouldn't overhear their conversation, "Have you ever thought that maybe you enjoy killing zombies too much?"

The question hit the air between them like stones. "Of course I do, Mattie." Alfred replied with a harsh light in his blue eyes, his mouth a grim line. "I hate them."

Just as Matthew was about to answer, they heard what sounded like wings beating in the distance, but there was something off, something mechanical about it. And it was far too loud.

"Is that a helicopter?" The man sitting in the front of the carriage asked. His wife stuck her bonnet covered head out, followed by her two little girls.

"Get back inside!" The brothers shouted, as they rushed to hop on the carriage seat with their client. "And make these horses go faster! That helicopter's going to attract every zom within five miles of here."


	5. Gilbert and Ludwig

Two German brothers were patrolling the village with the trade market Alfred and Matthew were hoping to make it to. The older brother was an albino, with silver hair and pink eyes, while the younger was a blond haired, blue-eyed Aryan. Having moved to the New American Nations from Germany before the name changed, the two brothers, both in their 20's, still retained their heavy German accent. Something they had pride in and no intention of losing.

"Hey, West?" The older brother, Gilbert asked as they patrolled the fence, just as Ludwig, his younger brother, had volunteered them to do without his knowledge, approval, or permission

"It's Ludwig." Replied the younger brother with a huff. He was sweating under the hot rays of the sun as they checked the fence for any holes that needed repairing before a zombie could break through it. "Just because I vas born in Vest Germany does not mean I like to be called West. Call me by that infernal nickname again and I vill begin calling you East."

"Okey dokey… Hey, West?" Ludwig heaved a sigh that could only have come from a man who knew great suffering.

"Yes, bruder?"

"Did you forget I was albino when you signed us up for this job? I know my pale skin, hair, and pink eyes aren't exactly dead giveaways… No, wait" Gilbert paused for a second, as though thinking, "they _are_."

They were only a half hour into their four hour shift, and already the conversation was beginning to turn towards an argument. Just to be clear, Ludwig didn't want an argument, it was too hot for an argument, but he knew one was coming so he told his brother what he wanted to hear.

"Fence duty was the only job left, bruder. I vanted to wake up early, I told you to wake up early, but you didn't and that's vhy we have to patrol the fence in the hot sun."

Kicking the ground and a stray, gray, reaching hand petulantly, Gilbert replied, "I'm not your alarm clock, West. I'm a human being. I have feelings and needs." Ludwig rolled his eyes. "Like needing to be out of the sun."

And there we go.

Instead of saying anything more, Ludwig turned to look out through the spaces in the wire fence. On the other side, the zombie trying to grab him looked like she could have been a very attractive woman once. Her nose and eyes were long decayed, but her hair still remained. It was tied up in a bun, and her white dress, though stained, torn, and frayed, still contained traces of elegant beauty it must have once held. It was easy to forget that the zombies used to be people like him and Gilbert, but if he just stood still for a moment, he felt as though he could form a connection with them that helped him remember.

"And food." Gilbert continued as they walked toward the front gate, a light bounce in his step now that he'd been given free rein to complain. "And sleep."

A whirring in the air above them silenced him. It was loud. Louder than anything they'd heard in a decade but also achingly familiar.

"It's a helicopter," whispered Ludwig, as though his voice might scare it away.

Gasoline was one of the first things to go after the Catastrophe; so working vehicles were mostly non-existent. Planes hadn't been seen in the skies for several years. Cars hadn't driven the roads for even longer. No one was crazy enough to advertise that they had a working car by driving it, unless it was an absolute emergency.

Soon after they heard the helicopter, the wind carried the sound of shuffling feet and moans to their ears. Zombies were dragging themselves towards the fence by the dozens, attracted by the sound of the whirring blades flying over their heads.

"West" Gilbert urged, his face even paler than usual. "We need to get out of here."

"Help!" They both heard the screams, human screams, coming from outside the gate. Upon hearing them, Gilbert and his brother broke out into a flat sprint towards the entrance.

Down the trial came a horse drawn carriage with two boys around their age and one man sitting up in front. The horses eyes were wild with panick as they tried to disentangle themselves from the biting mouths and clawing hands around them.

Ludwig wrapped his hands around the wire that held the gate shut, pulling it off as the boys picked two girls up and placed them under their arms like footballs.

"We're going to make a run for it!" One of them shouted. "Have that door open when we get there or we're dead!"

So no pressure or anything, Gilbert thought.

The wire was almost completely free by the time the man released his horses from the carriage, hoping their noise and movement would keep the zombies busy as he and the boys he's hired tried to run with his family in tow. Just as they prepared to jump, he grabbed his wife's hand, looked into her deep, brown eyes, and said, "We'll be all right."

The noise around them almost seemed to die down as she smiled, and replied, covering her hand with his, "I know."


	6. From The Claws Of Danger

"No! Don't hold hands!" Alfred's shriek rent the air as the couple prepared to jump from the carriage, but it was too late for warnings. The disaster had already been set in motion. They only managed a confused glance at the blond holding their daughter before their feet hit ground, and the woman was thrown off balance. Her knees buckled, dragged the man down alongside her as a decomposed hand made a grab for her ankle, followed by a putrid mouth biting its way through her flesh, biting all the way down until it hit bone. The rotten maw was attached to a disembodied torso that had already spilled most of its dried gusts across the field.

All the woman could manage was a shrill scream as the burning knowledge that she was going to die, was never going to see her daughters grow, seared its way through her cranium. Trying to disentangle himself, her husband pulled away from his wife, desperately trying to catch up to the two boys who held his daughters. He could see their retreating (tactically relocating) backs as they ran towards the waiting gate. If he could just get away-

Snap.

Crunch.

Alfred looked back as he reached the gate to see if the kid's parents had made it. Instead of seeing man and his wife catching up to them, all he could see was a field full of zombies. Two of them were new.

* * *

Ludwig closed the gates on the helicopter, leaving the wretch that had caused to whole mess to haul up inside his copter until the zombies grew disinterested and shambled away to find something more lively.

The second Matthew put Mary down on the ground; she asked where her parents were, even though she must have seen what happened to them.

The other child, Elizabeth, refused to bury her head in denial. "Murderers!" She screamed, rounding on everyone, not even caring that the commotion had drawn a small crowd from the villagers. "You left my parents to die! This is your fault! You were supposed to protect us. You promised us you would."

Matthew look away, shame on his face, but Alfred was having none of it. He picked the girl up by the scruff of her dress, much to her surprise, and said, "First off, we never made any promises. We said we'd do our best, and we did. Your father paid us to risk our lives to protect you. Well, Missy, we did that, but we weren't paid to die for you. Your mother was bitten. There was nothing we could have done for her."

Angry tears filled the girl's eyes, though she tried to blink them away in an attempt to appear defiant. "And my dad? What about him? He wasn't bitten, was he?"

"Not right away."

"Then why didn't you-"

Shaking her a little, Alfred raised his voice, shouting, "We would have died, Squirt! Your dad was a dead man the second he held your mom's hand. Sure, it's romantic and crap, but you can't do a four-legged relay when you're running for your life. But if you really need someone to blame, blame me." Matthew looked as though he were going to protest, but he stopped, mouth hanging ajar, once he saw his brother send the girl skidding across the gravel.

Mary ran to her sister's side.

"I'm the one who convinced Mattie to take this job. I told him we could handle it. It was my responsibility to protect your family, and I saved my own skin instead." Enraged, Elizabeth struggled to her feet, then charge head first at the tall blond standing in front of her. Alfred shift to the side, pushing her back to the ground as he did so. "You can't avenge your parent's deaths with that small body of yours. Find a family that will take you in, grow up, grow strong, then come and find me."

The older sister tried one more time to charge Alfred, a feral screech on her lips, her pretty face distorted by rage. This time, Alfred knocked her out.

"Dude," Gilbert noted as soon as they found a family that would take Elizabeth and her traumatized sister in, "You are colder than a block of ice."

A scowl drew itself on Alfred's boyish face, which was new to Matthew but not to the German brothers, who had just seen him throw around a little girl like a hacky sack, "Come one, Mattie. Let's see if the zoms are gone. I want to have a talk with that pilot."

As the brothers began to walk about, Ludwig called out for them to wait. Alfred turned around to face him, one eyebrow raised due to the curiosity he was reluctantly giving in to. He gave Gilbert a questioning look, but the albino just shrugged, obviously just as clueless as to what his brother wanted to say as he was.

"Did you ever find the one who said those words to you?" Alfred and Matthew both started at the insight, before allowing themselves a small, relaxed smile.

"We haven't yet."

"But we will."

"And when you do?" Ludwig asked.

The two blond brothers grinned. "Isn't it obvious?"

"We'll kick his ass!"


	7. Get On

A/N: Please review~

* * *

There was no plan. No ideas. Just pure rage and an impulse to punch someone. This is what was going through the American's mind as he and his brother made their way to the rusted fence they had just run through. Unfortunately, the zombies hadn't left yet. In fact, they were surrounding the helicopter that had yet to open its doors, and if the guy, or guys, inside had any sense of self preservation, the doors wouldn't be opened for a while yet, so Alfred just sat down by the nearest tree, criss cross apple sauce, and watched.

With a muted sigh, Matthew sat beside him under the tree's shade. Imagine their shock when the helicopter door they were watching did open a crack, just enough for an arrow to come flying through, nearly impaling Alfred's head.

"What the- Are they attacking?"

Noticing the note attached to the arrow's shaft, Matthew reached over Alfred, saying, "No, I don't think they're attacking us. I think they're trying to communicate with us.

He unfurled the letter, then read:

GET OFF YOUR ARSES, YOU GITS, AND HELP US!

"Well… that's rude." A mischievous glint lit up Alfred's blue eyes, "If they can see us, then let's just sit here, shrug, and wave." He put on the dopiest grin he could muster and shrugged in the direction of the helicopter.

Another arrow came flying at Alfred's head, this one even closer to hitting him than the last. There was no note attached.

Undeterred, Alfred continued to make a fool of himself. A crack of leaves a few feet behind them prompted Matthew to spin around and see the two Germans from the village.

Gilbert waved, "Hallo."

"Dude," Alfred muttered as he dodged another arrow, "Sprechen English."

Matthew hit him on the shoulder, "Sorry," he said on his brother's behalf. "My brother forgot what manners were sometime after charm and class."

"I resent that."

Ludwig nodded after a subtle glance in his own brother's direction. "I know how you must feel."

After a few hours of introducing and entertaining themselves, the zombies, including their former clients, finally shuffled away, leaving the people in the helicopter free to open their doors.

"Well, we're finally out. No thanks to you lot!" The first one out appeared to be a British man in his early 20's with spikey blond hair and a small stature. The next man had long wavy hair, and the last… also had shoulder length blond hair and a slender, almost childlike build. The speaker on the last man's head identified him as the pilot.

They moved as one to the gate and waited for someone to open the door, since Ludwig had resealed it. This time, it was Alfred who got up so he could untangle the wire from the gate. There was a grimace on his face Matthew knew to be wary of, and though he could have warned the pilot, he rather wanted to see him get punched as well.

Before the pilot had even said one word to Alfred or the rest, Alfred laid him out flat on his back.

"What were you thinking?!" He yelled. "Bringing that noise machine around people? Were you_ trying_ to get us killed?!"

The Frenchman and the British man jumped a little, but otherwise they made no move to help their pilot. A wise decision.

Babbling, the pilot replied, "NO! That's not it. I didn't know that would happen and then it did and it was too late. I'm totally sorry about that. By the way, my name's Feliks. What's yours?"

For a moment, Alfred was too baffled by the onslaught of words to say anything. When he pointed out that Feliks' mistake had cost two people their lives, the pilot just bowed his head, apologizing again before bouncing right back to puppies and springtime. After a while, Alfred decided it just wasn't worth his time, trying to get through a thick skull like that.

"So, guys, I've, like, got this piece of paper for you." The pilot plucked a long piece of parchment from his jacket pocket. "It, like, says your names and says you have to come with me to meet the prez. Sounds cool, right?"

The four men, not including Arthur and Francis, who had already read the paper, poured over the official looking document, but however official it may have looked, they still couldn't being themselves to believe it was more than some elaborate prank until they saw the President's seal on the envelope.

"Ne, Ludwig" Gilbert wheedled, "Do you think ve can go in the helicopter with Mattie and Alfred and see the president, too? Can ve? Oh, can ve please?"

Down at the bottom of the document, Ludwig noticed that their names were also printed.

"Ja, I think ve can."

One by one, they climbed into the helicopter, even as Alfred and Ludwig and Mattie cast dubious looks at their pilot, and got ready to see the president of the New American Nations, plus whoever Natalia, Ivan, Antonio, Kiku, Yao, Lovino, and Feliciano were.

* * *

A/N: Alright, that's the end of part one. Let me know if there are any particular pairings you like. If not, I'll just stick with America/Belarus(?) and maybe Friendship!GerIta.


	8. The President

Spidery cracks spread throughout the rough interior of the President's bunker. There was barely enough light to illuminate the corridors, but Feliks walked as though he could have led the group with his eyes closed. While they walked, Gilbert and Alfred reached out to trail their hands along the rough and bumpy edges of the stonewalls that surrounded them on all sides.

They had only been traveling the maze-like, underground corridors for a few minutes, but to those who aren't used to trusting strangers or to being underground, those minutes can feel like an eternity.

Still, they traveled in relative silence, with only Alfred, Gilbert, Arthur, and Francis making the bulk of the noise. Okay, so it wasn't really that quiet, but with a group consisting of hot heads, goof balls, and womanizers, what do you expect?

"Are we there yet?" Alfred asked the moment Feliks stopped in from of two large metal doors. He actually figured they were there and only asked to annoy Feliks, who he'd at once taken a disliking to, but for whom he also couldn't deny the smallest spark of grudging fondness.

"Like, what do you think?" Feliks opened the doors to reveal a sorry replica of the President's oval office. It had a carpet that was matted with filth and age, it had walls that were stained and even signed in certain places, and it had a desk that smelled of rot. Behind that desk was a gray haired man who stood at their approach. He was thin, his face weathered by the build up of stress and years that must work on someone who ran a country as it burned to the ground. And now, he was the President of the New American Nations, a sham of a government with no real power and hardly any staff, equipment, or military to its name.

Whatever the man had been working on, it very likely wasn't a law. No one cared about those anymore.

"Gentlemen" The President said as he rose. A quick flicker of doubt showed on his features when he glanced to the side. Matthew followed his eyes, seeing two silver haired youths, probably siblings, as he did so."I think for all of our sakes I'll get straight to the point. The reason I had Feliks bring you to my office is: I have a mission for all of you." The man gestured to the doors behind them, and Feliks moved to close them, revealing a map of Russia and the former United States. "What's left of my staff and I have reason to believe that a cure to be found in Moscow."

"And you want us to go and get it?" Arthur asked. "Why us?"

"Because you've shown an adept skill at combatting the undead threat." The man replied. "And because none of you have parents. No one to miss you if you're gone, shall we say."

Alfred scowled. "You're wrong there, pal. I've got a little girl or two who's looking forward to killing me in a few years, and I can't die until she does."

The man stared at Alfred for a moment, before replying, "Then you'd best survive your mission."

It was Francis who spoke next, "And what if we don't go? What if we don't want to risk our lives for you?"

It was a valid question, and unlike in the movies, the president had no guns with which to threaten them or poison with which he could force them to comply, so he simply said, "The decision is your's to make, but now this: This is a chance for you to make this world a better place, to stop the killing. If you pass up this chance, and hundreds- thousands die because of it, what makes you any better than the zombies you all despise so much?"

The Russian siblings shifted against the wall they stood against, Arthur fixed his friend with a steely glare, and the American shared a nod with his Canadian raised brother. They all knew they couldn't walk away from this.

"I accept" Matthew said first.

"Me too." Alfred added, with an appreciative nod towards his brother.

Arthur also accepted, much to Francis' dismay.

"Ja, my brother and I accept this mission."

"It sounds awesome!" Gilbert added, excited. "I can't wait to kill zombies with you guys!"

The President smiled at the chorus of assents, his faith in humanity restored a little.

"I'm glad you all accept you mission. I have a plane with enough fuel to take you to Moscow, where you will search for the military facility with the cure. These two", he gestured to the Russian boy in his scarf and his sister, "will guide you to the best of their abilities, though I'm afraid you'll have to find your own way back."

Arthur snorted. "Of course we do. Like anything can be easy."

Ignoring him, the President continued, "There are two pairs who will meet you there and one group that will be traveling separating from you. Similar to you, they carry representatives who were born or raised in their respective countries. In the event that you come across them, their names are Mathias Kohler, Berwald Oxenstierna, Tino Väinämöinen, Emil Bondevik, and Lukas Bondevik."

Alfred joked in a half-whisper to his brother that he didn't think he'd be able to pronounce their names if he met them, to which his brother could only despairingly shake his head.

* * *

**A/N: I love how I can do this, but my essay's are completely beyond meT_T**


	9. Crashing

No one wanted to sit next to Natalia on the plane. Yes, she was beautiful, with pale skin and long hair that glittered like starlight in what little illumination the plane provided… she also carried a scythe around like it was a stuffed teddy bear, and if that wasn't intimidating enough, all it took was one friendly word from Alfred to make her show off her Talk-To-Me-Again-And I'll-Cut-You glare. The only one on the planned, piloted by a skittish brunette named Toris, she wanted to sit next to was her big brother, and even he didn't really look comfortable sitting next to her, especially when she cuddled up on his arm.

Alfred, sitting with his brother a few seats away, noticed all of this. When he was sure Natalia was paying far too much attention to her silver-haired brother to hear what he was saying, he asked Matthew if he thought he had a chance with her.

"Incest girl?" Matthew replied. "Not a snowball's chance in hell, Alfred. That girl has problems that make yours look like idiosyncrasies."

"I reject your reality, Mattie." Alfred said, still staring at Natalia and her dark blue, creepily bloodstained dress. "I reject it and substitute with a nicer one. Like one where I get the girl."

"Yeah, okay. Good luck with that."

Since Matthew returned to cleaning his sniper equipment, Alfred decided to pass the time by staring at the wooden bat the president had given him, then he'd look out the window, and then he'd look back at the bat.

Meanwhile, Gilbert was snoring a few rows back.

"No, put zat drink back" He mumbled in his sleep. "Nevermind, give it 'ere." Anyone looking could see that he was snuggling with and drooling on Ludwig's shoulder.

Natalia contemplated killing him.

Ivan also contemplated killing him.

Actually, the only people who weren't even jokingly considering murdering the albino in his sleep were Matthew and Toris… And Toris was far away in the pilot's quarters!

Suddenly, the entire plane shook, causing Matthew to accidently butt himself with his own rifle, and Natalia to almost decapitate herself with her pet scythe.

"Little turbulence, Toris?" Alfred called up to the pilot's seat, desperately hoping it was just turbulence. Any alternatives seemed to be of the "Oh God, oh God, we're all going to die" type.

"A-actually, Mr. Jones" Alfred stifled a groan at the name, "I th-think we're out of gas."

Huh.

Out of gas? What is this "Out of gas" you speak of?

Red lights and alarms went off, and something smelt like it was burning.

Gilbert woke up with a snort, "Are ve zere yet?

* * *

Three brunettes glanced up at the skies to see a plane rapidly decelerating. In fact, it seemed to losing altitude. More to the point, it seemed to be crashing.

They were standing on a hill about a mile away, so they could clearly see that the plane was heading towards the Forest of the Dead. The forest dipped towards the Earth so all of the _non morti_ gathered there. No one without a death wish or an empty plane ever entered that forest of their own free will. Sure, sometimes criminals were sent there, and, sure, it made a great place to leave someone you didn't like, since the chances of them making it out to tell on you were slim to none, but other than people who went there against their will, people with death wishes, and people with empty planes, no one went into the Forest of the Dead… except for maybe anyone who went in for a reason different from those mentioned.

When Feliciano, a young Italian boy in his late teens, saw the plane, he immediately ran to help the people who were now either dead, injured, or trapped in a forest full of _non morti._ Before his fratello could stop him, Antonio had already grabbed Feli by the scruff of his collar.

"Let me go!" Feliciano shouted in Italian, squirming to get free as he did. "We have to help them!"

"They're probably already dead" Romano said, his face hard. Obviously, Romano didn't think the lives of total strangers were worth risking his friend and brother over, and maybe he was right. Maybe they weren't worth it, but just as the supposedly cowardly Feliciano couldn't leave people in trouble, neither could Antonio. He dropped Feliciano, picked up his halberd (it's a big ax), smiled and said, "I'll go."

Immediately, Romano threw a fit, "NO. YOU. ARE. NOT!" He was practically stamping his feet with outrage. Unfortunately, Antonio had suddenly and unexplainably lost his hearing. As had Feliciano, who refused to listen to either his brother or Antonio as he ran towards the smoking crash site, a moan rising like a wave from where they were all headed.


	10. The First

While the others had alternated between bickering and silence on the plane, Toris had often thought of Feliks. With him gone, was Feliks eating his vegetables or was he filling up on junk food? Was he getting enough rest? Was he lonely?

Even if Feliks was silly and immature, he was a good friend, so Toris couldn't help but worry about him whenever they were apart.

Maybe it's because he was so worried over his friend that he didn't notice the President had failed to mention just how little fuel the plane had when one took into account they were traveling to Russia.

"B-Brace yourselves, everyone!" He'd shouted. Those ended up being his last words, since once the plane made impact with the trees below them, his head slammed against the windshield with enough force to crack it. This also resulted in his brains becoming nothing more than mashed goo in his cranial cavity. The only evidence of his death, besides his slumped body, was the blood dripping from his ears.

In the end, Toris passed away without anyone even noticing.

* * *

"Mattie, are you okay?" Alfred managed to choke out. He was dizzy, but otherwise fine, and the bat was still in his hands. He reached out to shake his brother, heart racing. When a shake didn't wake the blond, he tried slapping his face, with each slap progressively harder than the last.

Finally, after what felt like a century, Matthew groaned to life, "Alfred, stop hitting me." Relieved, Alfred leapt out of his seat and ecstatically embraced his brother.

Elsewhere, the others were also making sure their siblings and friends were okay.

"Are you all right, West?" Gilbert asked, suddenly wide awake, though that was to be expected, and concerned.

"Ja, I'm fine, bruder. Are you all right?"

Gilbert smiled, something that shone even though he was as covered in dust and filth as the rust of them were, "Not a scratch on me, West."

Francis brushed some of the dust off of Arthur, "Are you ok, Arthur?"

"I'm fine." Arthur said as he tried to spit some of the dust out of his mouth. Big green eyes looked up at Francis when he suddenly asked in a soft voice, "Are you?"

"Yes... But my hair's an absolute mess!." Arthur groaned. Served him right for worrying about that bastard.

"NATALIA!" A panicked scream interrupted their momentary reprieve from wariness and fear. It was Ivan. Looking frantic, the big Russian shook his sister. "Wake up!" He yelled, then, with desperation, he turned to them and asked, "Why isn't she waking up?"

Images of a young girl suddenly waking with film covering her eyes flashed through his head. Ivan didn't think he could bear to see another one of his sisters turn in a monster. A nezhit.

She seemed so still to him, like a doll. He'd never thought he'd think this, but he much preferred her when she was awake and trying to break down his door.

Francis and Alfred rushed to his side. Francis checked for a pulse as Alfred went to retrieve the girl's weapon. It was all the way in the back of the plane with her brother's pipe, so they must have discarded their weapons sometime before the impact. Smart. It was probably a good idea not to be holding a scythe while in a plane crash.

Eventually, everyone got themselves unbuckled, and Francis found a pulse. "She's alive" he breathed, much to her big brother's immediate relief.

He gathered her up in his arms, leaving no room for a weapon. Since this was the case, Francis and Alfred decided to covered for him, as their weapons were made for close range, and Arthur was talked into (read:forced) holding both the girl's scythe and Ivan's pipe. Francis didn't mind this since it meant Arthur would have to stay out of the fighting, too.

It was right before they were getting ready to exit the plane when they realized they were surrounded on all sides by the undead, and when they finally remembered that there had been a pilot flying their plane. Gilbert and Ludwig went to go check on him. When they didn't hear any responses to their shouting, they barged into the quarters, only to find that Toris was dead. Ludwig checked for a pulse anyway, and when he didn't find one, he asked if he should shoot him, just to be sure he wouldn't rise. Alfred tossed Ludwig his gun, and seeing this, Arthur happily passed the unarmed Gilbert Natalia's scythe.

Ivan growled at this, but didn't say anything, so Arthur just shrugged his shoulders.

While Ludwig was getting ready to shoot Toris's corpse, Matthew walked up to the front of the plane and stopped him.

"Look at him!" Matthew shouted. "Hasn't he already been through enough? If he were going to turn he would have already. What he needs is a burial, not a bullet to the brain!"

They could see Matthew was adamant and that he was right, so Ludwig put the gun away, removing the pilot's helmet and closing his eyes instead.

It was strange. With his head back against the seat and his eyes closed, Toris almost looked like a sleeping child.

They decided to leave him like that, since burying him in a forest full of zombies was out of the question, not to mention impossible.

"How are we going to get out of here?" Outside the windows, they could see hordes of corpses already clawing, trying to find a way inside the crushed wreckage of the plane that was the only thing keeping them alive.

"Ve'll 'af to fight our way out." Ludwig answered, cocking his gun as he did.


	11. Get Out

"Wait" Arthur crossed his arms, a scowl on his face. "Who died and made the German king?" Usually, that would be a perfectly normal figure of speech. It wasn't right then, though.

Immediately, the cabin broke out into a bout of bickering.

"Vat's wrong vith my bruder being the leader?" Prussia demanded. "If he's good at it, let 'em. I haven't seen you coming up with any ideas, dummkopf."

The cabin split into two sides, with Gilbert and Alfred supporting Ludwig's decision while Francis insisted that it was too dangerous and Arthur proved just how much of a royal pain in the ass he could be. Part of being a good friend, Francis decided, was sticking up for your friends even when they were wrong or being unnecessarily belligerent. This did not mean he did not wish to tape Arthur's mouth shut (for his own safety, of course) as he continued to insult everyone within five feet of him.

"Git!"

"Arschloch!"

"I don't even know what that means! Speak English, you dolt."

Amongst the name-calling, Ivan stayed eerily silent. In the end, it was Matthew who tried to calm everyone, but he kept being shouted down, until Alfred finally noticed and shouted, "Matthew's right!" The argument abruptly ceased as all participants began to wonder when the reserved Matthew, who only seemed to talk to his brother, had said _anything_. "We have a mission, something that could change this entire world for the better, so we can't afford to be bickering over petty differences. Right now, Ludwig seems to be the man with the plan, so I say we follow him. Who's with me?" Matthew snorted. "I mean, us. Who's with us?" When he saw everyone begin to open their mouths at once, he continued, "Don't argue, just raise your hands if you're willing to try fighting our way out before we die of dehydration or something."

Gilbert raised his hand, followed by Ludwig, Alfred, and Matthew. Seeing as how Natalia was unconscious, she didn't count as a neigh, so Ludwig's group won. With a sigh of defeat and a small smile, Francis raised his hand, too.

"What are you doing, Francis?" Arthur hissed. "I thought you were on my side."

"I was on your side, Arthur. Then I changed sides."

The group managed to come up with a decent plan in a little under thirty minutes. Their idea was to keep a four-man quadrangular combat formation with all noncombatants waiting in the center of the square. This way, Arthur, Matthew, and Ivan could be protected and there would presumably be no blind spots. A circle would probably have been better but they just didn't have enough people for that.

Alfred strode towards the emergency exit, unsealed the handle, slipped his hands under it, waited for the others to affirm that they were ready with their weapons and camping equipment, and then opened it a smidge. Almost as if on call, hands began groping through the small gap between the plane's interior and sliding door.

"Man" Alfred sighed, as the others looked on with their faces grim, "I really wish we had some bombs-"

Fire exploded about the plane's hull, drawing the hands away from the gap. "Hurry up!" A thickly accented voice whispered. "That bomb won't keep them occupied forever." The door slid up to reveal a baby-faced Italian boy around Alfred's age. His entire torso was covered with pinned grenades. "Let's go" he insisted, gesturing with his hands for them all to get out.

And they didn't need to be told twice.

Once they all filed out, they could clearly see other fires and hear other bombs being set in the distance. "Don't shout" The boy, with the face Matthew could almost say he recognized, said. "It'll draw them. Just run as quietly as possible and don't lose sight of me."

The sun was setting, so shadows seemed to follow them as they chased the soft pitter-patter of the boy's feet, and let that lead them out of the woods.

* * *

Once they were on higher ground and sure they weren't being followed, Alfred thanked the boy for saving them and asked for his name.

"My name is Feliciano Vargas."

"Vargas?" Alfred breathed. Since he was standing nearby, Matthew also heard the name and gasped.

_"You murderer!" Alfred shrieked at the Italian man standing before him, covered in blood. "You killed our parents."_

_Sadly, the man looked down at the two boys crouching in front of him, one from fear and exhaustion and the other getting ready for an attack, and said, "There was nothing I could do, little bambino. Your parents were already dead, but if you wish to fight me someday, grow strong. My name is Julius Vargas. I'll be waiting for you."_

* * *

**A/N:**

**Bambino = child**

**Arschloch= asshole**

**Dummkopf= idiot**


	12. Before The Storm

"Calm down, Alfred" Matthew said. "There's probably a lot of Italians with that last name.

"Yeah, but look at his face, Mattie! He looks just like him!"

"Please" The Italian boy said, his amber eyes wide, "could you tell me what you're talking about? Do you know something about me?"

Just then, two slightly burned and dirtied figures stepped into the clearing where they had decided to make camp.

"Is there a problem, Feli?" The taller brunette asked. His face was smiling and nonthreatening, but the hand clenched around his halberd spoke volumes. Similar to Feliciano, the two of them were wearing military uniforms. Also similar to Feliciano, the uniforms weren't quite the right size, so Alfred had to guess that they were stolen from corpses, which he didn't actually have a problem with. After all, it wasn't like he'd bought the bomber jacket he wore.

Well, actually he'd taken the jacket from his father's closet. It hadn't felt too different from taking the jacket off of a corpse at the time.

"No problem here, Antonio." Feliciano replied cheerfully, his face beaming.

Alfred quickly picked up from where he'd left off, "I was about to ask if you guys knew a Julius Vargas." All three of them seemed to freeze at the name.

"That's our grandfather," Romano said, his voice surprisingly deep and harsh when compared to his brother's. According to what Romano and Feliciano had to say, their grandfather had left for America when they were still toddlers, leaving them to live with Antonio's family. Part of why they were in Russia was because they were looking to find a way to America. Alfred almost brought up how funny it was that they had just left exactly where they wanted to go, but Matthew kicked him in the shin before he could.

After Romano finished speaking, Alfred told him and Feliciano about how he'd met their grandfather, and about how he'd saved his and his brother's life. The younger twin seemed especially happy to have more reasons to idolize his grandfather. The older twin, however, simply scowled.

"Glad to know that old bastardo is taking care of everyone except for his two grandsons."

And the conversation pretty much ended on that note.

"Hey, Alfred," Matthew said once the Vargas brothers and Antonio left to help a cursing Arthur and a laughing Francis with their tents, "thanks for what you did back there in the plane. Speaking up for me, I mean."

They were standing a little ways from the rest of the camp, so Alfred felt it was safe to mess around with his brother a little.

"No probs, bro. It's just that…"

Matthew stopped walking and stared, suddenly concerned, "What is it?"

"Well, as the technically older brother, aren't you supposed to be doing nice things for me?"

"What?" Matthew returned instantly, "Like speaking up? I would, but you never shut up, Alfred."

Alfred raised a hand to his forehead, doing his best to look pitiful, "Oh, my older brother is so mean to me."

"You're only younger than me by like thirty seconds! It's like you came running out behind me."

"I know." Alfred grinned. "That's because I'm always chasing after you."

Matthew blushed.

"Aww, you're blushing. That's cute. Come over here and give your brother a kissy."

Backing away, Matthew said with arms raised and his face pink, "Don't come near me. I'll punch you in the nose. I swear I will."

The two's "fight" eventually devolved into a wrestling match, with both of them struggling on the ground.

Francis turned away from his pathetic lean-to to smile for a moment in their direction. After all, barely a day went by when he and Arthur didn't have an argument that devolved into a wrestling match.

Of course, Arthur, being the gentleman that he was, sniffed at the ruckus, "Such children."

"I'm glad you think trying to brain your best and only friend with a skillet for not liking your, " Francis coughed a little, "pathetic " and then he coughed again, "cooking is so mature."

Arthur dropped the piece of the lean-to he was trying to prop up so he could lean in closer to Francis, "What was that, Frog?"

"Do you need me to repeat myself? Are you truly going deaf so young, Arthur?" said the curly blond-haired man as he pretended to cry.

Pretty soon, there was another wrestling match going on at the campsite.

"That looks like fun," Gilbert said to his brother as they worked on their own lean-to. "Do you want to-"

"No."

* * *

A little ways away from the ruckus was Ivan, sitting on a moss-covered rock with his little sister cradled in his arms. Dark blood dripped down from one her nostrils, something that he desperately tried to wipe away before anyone could see. There was a blue tinge to her lips that just kept getting worse. Sometimes, when Ivan put his ear to her heart, he didn't think he could hear it beating.

But the Frenchman had said she was, and it wasn't like that could have changed, right? Not so soon. Ivan didn't think he could survive if he lost another sister. A sudden noise behind him sent his hand grasping for his iron pipe. When he turned his head, he saw not a zombie, but an effeminate looking man in a tan uniform and a slightly smaller boy who could have been his brother. They were both armed with swords, and their swords were drawn.

"How long hasn't she been breathing, aru?"


	13. Goodbye

Natalia was beautiful when she swung her glittering blade through the air, and she was beautiful when she smiled, but it had always been her presence that Ivan had valued most.

She was the only warmth in his life.

Maybe he'd just gotten used to having her by his side, but simply not hearing her voice was enough to make him feel like he was going to go mad. The one warm thing in his life, the only thing that had kept him from falling into despair after Katyusha died, was now lying cold and limp in his arms.

"How long?" The Chinese man asked again. His clothes were a red, traditional Mandarin jacket and loose white pants. The boy beside him carried a katana and wore a white naval uniform with gold and black accents.

As they neared, the girl in Ivan's arms convulsed, her head reared, and she lunged, sinking her teeth in her brother's neck. And then Ivan knew that what he held in his hands truly wasn't his sister anymore, because she would never hurt him.

Blood dripped from the wound on his neck as she continued to suck on and claw at it, her formerly clear blue eyes unfocused.

Yao Wang, for that was his name, stepped forward to dispatch with the siblings, but Ivan asked for a minute, just one more minute with his sister. Ignoring the fact that his neck was being gnawed into, the Russian man undid the scarf, Katyusha's scarf, from around his neck and placed it around Natalia's. Then he undid his long coat, placing it around her shoulders like a blanket.

Some modicum of Belarus may have yet still remained in her body, because her unfocused eyes blinked, as though she was as confused by her brother's actions as Yao and his younger brother were.

Ivan smiled as he stroked his sister's silver hair, "You've always warmed me, sister. Now that you are cold, please let me warm you now." He tightened his grip around her, then nodded in Yao's direction to indicate that he was ready.

"You are brave" Yao said, as drew the gun from his waist. "In another life, we probably would have been good friends." He placed the gun on Ivan's forehead, cocking it as he did so.

With his arms still tight around his sister and with her still crawling at his throat, the two siblings almost looked as though they were simply embracing. When Natalia struggled against him, Ivan held her closer, whispering softly that everything would be all right, because they'd always be together.

For his last words, Ivan looked up at Yao and began, "Thank y-" The sound of a report cut him off. It only took one more bullet to silence his sister.

* * *

Ludwig and Gilbert were closest to the sound of the report, so they raced to the rock where Ivan had been sitting first. What they found when they got there were two silver haired and bloodied bodies with two men they had never seen before standing over them.

Ludwig drew America's gun, and Gilbert, who didn't know Natalia or Ivan very well but who had looked forward to getting to know them better, readied Natalia's scythe. It shone in the moonlight, looking wicked, almost cruel as it lusted for blood.

"Vat happened here?" Ludwig growled, his gun hand firm. "Expain. Now."

Alfred busted in on the scene next, followed by his brother, the Italian brothers, Antonio, Francis, and Arthur. If Kiku and Yao Wang got into a fight just then, they'd be outnumbered seven to two, so they decided their best course of action would be to lower their weapons. Even as he watched them sheathe their swords and holster their guns, Arthur never let his arrow, an arrow he had set as he ran to the source of the shots, leave their sights. He wanted them to know that anyone who killed his comrades would not be forgiven.

Francis, his own fleuret drawn, made an appreciative hum when he noticed just how seriously Arthur was taking losing two people he had really just met. Before Alfred or anyone else could speak first, Arthur snarled, "Those were our guides, you bastards."

Yao gestured for his brother to bare his palms in the universal sign for surrender, "We came here to bring you to the military base you seek," Yao started, his eyes flickering from weapon to wielded weapon as spoke, "The two you see before you were infected. I had no choice but to shoot them."

A groan rose like a crescendo from the forest, scaring the birds and bats into the night sky.

"We have to get out of here" Alfred said, his voice strained as he stared down at the two embracing bodies, the two he'd hoped to eventually become friends with. "Those shots will draw them, and if the shots don't, the scent of blood will."

Sure enough, a distant rustling in the bushes signaled the beginnings of an attack. "He's right," Francis said. "These two can tell us what happened when we aren't being chased by the creatures."

"Follow us" Yao said, turning as he spoke. "The path we used was high and against the wind. If we run, they will not catch us."

Not trusting him, but also not seeing any other choice, the others followed a strange man with a boyish face and a thick accent in the hopes of escaping a ravenous horde of zombies for the second time that day. Internally, Francis lamented that they were leaving behind the tent he had just figured out how to stand up.

As they left, Alfred cast one look behind at the two Russian siblings he'd never gotten to know. In the moonlight, their blood looked like shadows and their hair shone like silver. There was almost something ethereal about the scene.

He wanted so badly to cover them, but he had a feeling they wouldn't want to be covered, so instead of rushing back into the camp so he could grab a lean-to and cover them with it, he made to follow his own precious sibling, who was frantically gesticulating in the bushes for Alfred to get a move on.

"Do svidaniya , druz'ya moi." The sparse Russian fell from his lips as he turned away. "Spat' khorosho."

* * *

**A/N:**

Here's what Alfred hopefully says:

Goodbye, my friends. Sleep well.


	14. Good Time

After walking for days in the hot Russian sun with little food, less water, and the same clothes, just about everyone was feeling cranky. In the case of Romano and Arthur, it would be more correct to say that they were crankier than usual.

Gilbert, however, was having the time of his life. Every time a group of nomadic zombies wandered near the sounds of Romano's and Arthur's near ceaseless squabbling, he would swing his scythe and cut off their heads, which didn't even bleed much since most of the blood in a zombie has already withered away and turned to dust. Turning to his brother, the albino would hoot, "West, did you see that? Did you see what the awesome me did?"

"Yes, I did, East" grumbled a sweating Ludwig, who was thoroughly ignored thereafter.

"Whew" sighed Gilbert after he managed to decapitate three male zombies with one slice, "It sure is hard work… Being this awesome, that is." He grinned at the rest of the group as they walked up behind him, "You guys sure are lucky to be so boring and normal."

A halberd swung through the air, taking out a tree that landed on at least five shambling zombies. There was a moment of silence before everyone turned to see Antonio smiling, his halberd hanging easily on his shoulder. Still smiling, Antonio said to Gilbert, "Who are you calling 'normal'?"

Just then, Francis walked to the side of the path, kicked three zombies in a line, and skewered them all through their heads with his fleuret. "And who are you calling 'boring', mon ami?"

Gilbert beamed. For the rest of the walk, Gilbert, Antonio, and Francis made it a contest to see who could attract and then kill the most zombies.

Alfred wanted to join too, but someone had to protect the group's rear, so he and his bat didn't get to play, much to Matthew's secret amusement. After all, it wasn't too often that Matthew got to see his brother pout.

A little after they had left camp, and Yao had finished explaining that he was China's representative, and that his younger adopted brother, Kiku, was Japan's, Matthew had confronted Alfred about something neither of them ever really liked to talk about.

"Alfred," Matthew had said, his brow furrowed. "If I turn, you'll put me down, right?"

Alfred had turned to him, eyes wide, and replied, "Shit, Mattie… don't talk about stuff like that."

"But it could happen."

"Not as long as I'm alive," He'd said. Matthew knew he'd have to confront him about it again eventually, but-

The sound of Arthur hissing something to Ludwig snapped him out of his reverie.

"Can't you control your brother?"

Ludwig rolled his eyes. "Can't you control your lover?"

Blushing a deep shade of purple, Arthur snapped, "He's not my lover! Why would you even say that?"

"You two just seem so close. I just assumed…"

There was a slight twitch present in Ludwig's lips that made Matthew think he was fighting a smile as Arthur squawked, "We're just friends! Why does no one believe that?"

"Twelve!" The shout belonged to Gilbert.

"Fourteen!" Followed by Francis.

"Forty!" And then by Antonio.

"What?!"

* * *

A group of zombie children walked near the group, their clothes worn and torn, quickly dispelling the good mood that had been brewing. For this, Kiku and Yao drew their swords, but Alfred asked for them to wait.

"I'll take care of the kids" He said. "You guys go on ahead. I'll catch up." The others cast him wary glances, some of them wondering if he enjoyed killing zombies so much he'd even go out of his way to kill children, but Matthew knew it wasn't that.

Unlike Gilbert, Antonio, and Francis, Kiku and Yao wouldn't hesitate to behead the kids. Alfred felt that if the body of a kid was going to be defiled, it had to be by someone who regretted it. Maybe it was wrong, but he just couldn't bring himself to hate the walking corpses of children as much as he hated the adults, so when everyone was gone, he'd tell the kids to close their eyes, even though they couldn't hear him, and then he'd put them to sleep.

It just felt like the right thing to do.

* * *

When Alfred caught up to the rest, he found Feliciano chatting away aimlessly with Matthew.

Felciano was a strange one. He could stare at a butterfly as it flew, delighted, and then whine about the heat two seconds later. The colors of the forest captured his interest, too, and he'd stare at the moss and the trees and the bushes as though he were trying to record every shade of green he found so he could replicate them later. Whereas the trek through the woods was monotonous to people like Alfred, to a boy who could beam at a clear sky, it was strikingly and breathtakingly beautiful.

Seeing Alfred running up, Feliciano turned his Mega watt grin on him and waved. Once again, Alfred caught himself wondering how someone so carefree and cheerful had survived in the world they lived in, but then he dismissed the thought. He didn't want to think about sad stuff like that anymore. So he swung his arms around his brother, who had been mouthing 'Help me', and his little Italian friend.

Maybe the world was dark. Maybe people died in it everyday. That didn't mean he couldn't enjoy the time he had with the people he was with.

"Alfred!" Feliciano giggled as he tried to fix the hair he had mussed. "I was just telling Matthew about all the different shades of green in a blade of grass." Laughing again, he continued, "Can you believe he thought there was only one?"

Matthew sighed as though he were exasperated by the topic, but then he cast the young baby-faced Italian, for it was hard to think of him being the same age as himself and his brother, a fond look, his eyes soft with affection.

A hint of jealousy stirred up within Alfred, but he squashed it down. After ten years of being the only person in Matthew's world, he figured it was going to be hard to share him with anyone else, but if he had to, he was glad it was with a guy like Feliciano.


	15. The End Is Near

**A/N: Thanks for all your reviews, follows, and favorites**

* * *

"Alfred, look out!" Thanks to Mattie's warning, Alfred spun around on a dime and caught sight of a long mouthed and toothless corpses standing maybe a foot away from him.

When it didn't make a move towards him, Alfred decided to just watch for a few seconds while the others looked on. After a few seconds, it lunged forward and roared in the blond boy's face, covering him with stale spittle.

Lips quirking, Alfred gave Mattie and Feliciano, who was still hanging out towards the back with them, a small wink, then said, "Wow, your breath really stinks. Let me help you clean that mouth." The zombie didn't even have time to move another inch forward before Alfred's bat had slammed into its face, sending spit and blood flying in an arching spray.

It dropped to the ground, and some sense that knew of fear and pain kept it there.

It was times like these that Matthew almost felt bad for the zombies his brother killed.

He quipped, "I bet you think you're a genius because you can spout a one liner."

"I don't think, Mattie" Alfred replied, to which Matthew could only slip in a quick nod of agreement. " I know."

With a slight smile still resting on his face, Alfred stood over the squirming corpse, and bashed its brains in.

A whimper from behind him drew Alfred's attention, and he turned to see Feliciano, the little Italian boy he'd come to like, with tears welling up in his eyes. He moved to comfort the kid, who was actually about his age, but Ludwig beat him to it.

As Alfred watched, Ludwig put a tentative hand on Feliciano's shoulder, saying, "Feliciano, you don't need to pity them. They aren't human anymore."

"But they used to be!" Feliciano sobbed, and suddenly Alfred felt like the biggest jerk on the planet. "It isn't right to kill them like that. It's cruel."

Scratching his head sheepishly, Alfred replied, "I'm sorry, Feli. I didn't know it'd upset you so much. I've just been doing this for a long time, and sometimes I forget that these guys" He gestured to the corpse, "aren't just walking targets." Then he brightened, eyes gleaming. "Tell you what, Feli why don't you make sure I don't get too flippant. If it seems like I'm being too cruel to them, you make sure to tell me."

Feliciano stopped crying and beamed, "Si!"

Further up ahead, the sounds of the three musketeers could still be heard competing over how many zombies they'd killed. Alfred guessed that they got a pass because they were killing zombies with teeth and killing them quickly, not drawing the kills out for their own amusement.

Speaking of killing, hadn't Ludwig been passing a lot of nervous glances Feliciano's way recently? As far as Alfred was concerned, Feliciano was Matthew's friend and, therefore, under his protection. This meant that if Ludwig, however much Alfred may have come to like him as person, harmed a hair on Feliciano's head, Alfred would be forced to feed him to the zombies.

Staring hard, Alfred tried to convey this to Ludwig through telepathy, and was satisfied when the German seemed to shiver.

For now, that would just have to do.

* * *

When night struck, Yao finally found the base. He lined them up behind they bushes as they all surveyed the clearing where the base, a small, cinder block-like building, was situated.

Five zombies patrolled the base's exterior despite it's high location. They looked as though they'd all been killed recently, as evidenced by their still fresh looking bodies and relatively well-kept clothes.

More unsettlingly than that was the fact that they seemed to have been shot to death, and no zombie carried a gun.

The first zombie wore a red shirt under a long, black coat, red pants, brown boots, and a little black hat over his unkempt blond hair. If it weren't for him being dead, Al was pretty sure they could have been good friends. Any guy with hair that wild had to know how to party. Also, he'd obviously died trying to shield the other members in his group.

The zombie with the second most bullet wounds in his chest was tall with a sharp, thuggish face. He had short, blond hair and greenish blue eyes.

Compared to the first two, the last three zombies were considerably smaller. They were obviously the ones the first two had tried to shield. One had a crossed shaped pin, another wore a white cap on its head, and the last looked too young to even be a zombie hunter, but then, hadn't they all started young?

Ludwig spoke up first, "It looks like someone ambushed them."

"Damn straight it does." Alfred replied.

Romano wrung his hands. "Well, then what do you think we should do? We can't turn back now."

"We could have look outs" Matthew said.

Slack jawed, his brother replied, "You _want_ to split up? Now?!"

"It wouldn't just be me." Matthew defensively responded. "Anyone else who wants to be a look out can stay with me."

"Then I'll stay" Feliciano said.

"Feliciano!" Romano hissed. "What are you thinking? Are you trying to get yourself killed?"

Feliciano laughed, but Alfred thought it sounded a little forced. "I'll be fine, fratello. Don't worry."

Antonio put his hands on Feliciano's shoulders, looked into his eyes, and said, "Feliciano, I don't think you should do this."

They were interrupted by a creaking sound as Arthur readied his bow. They all looked at him as he drew back the string, released it, and hit the tallest zombie right between his brows.

"What?" Arthur said. "You guys were just ignoring me…" He took in a deep breath. "And I haven't gotten to kill any zombies in days because you lugs keep on hogging them all."

"It's fine." Francis said, grinning. "You can take out the other four. It's quieter than a sniper rival, anyway." Matthew crossed his arms and pouted in a manly way.

* * *

When Arthur had finished dispatching all five, missing only one shot, for which Francis had teased him mercilessly, Gilbert declared that he would be staying outside with Mattie (he'd picked up Alfred's nickname) and little Feliciano. Ludwig tried to talk him out of it, but Gil was adamant. He was staying outside.

Antonio was still torn between staying outside with Feliciano and going into the base with Romano, so Feliciano gently took him aside and said, "I know that the part of your heart where you hold me is different from the part where you hold my brother."

"What?" Antonio said. "Feli, where is this coming from?"

Feliciano smiled and continued, "I can see it in your eyes when you look at my brother, Antonio. You love him."

"I love you too, Feli."

Feliciano shook his head. "Not the way you love him. You need to be with him, Antonio. And it's okay."

There was definitely something in Antonio's eyes when he embraced Feliciano, choking out, "I love you, too."

Patting his back, Feliciano replied, "I know."

In the end, Antonio followed Romano and the others into the base, with two other brothers who hated leaving their siblings behind.

"What did Feliciano say to make you come with me?" Romano asked as they stepped into the building.

"He said he loved you and that he wanted me to protect you."

"… Remind me to punish him for brainwashing you when we get back."


	16. None Can Die

**A/N: Okay, this is the last chapter and also the longest chapter yet. Thanks to everyone for sticking with my story this far, and I hope you liked it to the end. And a special thanks to everyone who reviewed^^**

**Inspirations include: ****The Walking Dead, 28 Days Later, Firefly, Lord of the Rings, Thor, Supernatural, Pride Prejudice and Zombies, World War Z, and Rot & Ruin**

* * *

The interior of the base was dark, crowded, and loaded with spider webs. Also, the air was stale and difficult to breath. There were a number of rooms with glass walls, one of which contained a zombie in a lab coat with a number of multicolored vials, though many of the vials were shattered. The zombie locked its filmy eyes on them as they passed, but resumed banging its head against the wall once they were out of its sight.

"I hate this place" said Romano, who was suddenly wishing he'd stayed outside with his brother. They passed through a dark, shadowed corridor that opened up into what could have once been a control room. There was a large screen, a speaker system, and a keyboard with a disk on it.

Alfred gave the disk a once over before shrugging and sticking it into the DVD player, thinking, 'Well, what harm could it do?'

All at once, the screen blinked to life, and a women's picture began to come into view. She was likely in her early thirties, with shoulder length brown hair and dark circles under her eyes.

At first, what she said was garbled, but then the screen settled down and they could hear, "-We didn't mean to."

All eyes were suddenly glued to the screen.

"We were commissioned by the American and Russian governments to create a serum that could bring a soldier back to life. It was our job. Our mission. Our patriotic duty." She laughed hollowly, tears streaming from her eyes. "And we succeeded."

The boys all glanced at each other as she burst into more hysterical laughter. It was obvious that she was barely holding on to her sanity.

"The soldiers came back, and they came after us. We tried to keep them contained, but they were too strong. And then… the virus we used to spread the serum in them… it's contagious." She broke off into a sob. "All my friends have turned into them!"

Turning around, the woman picked up two purple vials, and said, "These vials contain a vaccine. If I succeed, you'll be able to find it in the safe next to this room. The code is 48-07-10. If you open that safe and there's nothing in it except our priceless research" She ran her hands through her hair, "Then I guess I failed, and I died for nothing." Reaching out to turn off the camera, she said, "Good luck." And the screen blinked off.

* * *

"Hurry up, Alfred" Romano hissed. "Open up the safe!"

"Please be quick, mon ami."

"_Today_, Alfred."

Alfred threw up his hands, "Would everyone in the peanut gallery please be quiet? I can't concentrate with you all breathing down my neck."

When they all shut up, he thanked them and continued. After he got the safe open, there was a huge intake of breath… because there were two purple vials in the safe.

But the sound of gunshots cut off their celebration.

They were already running towards the exit with the vials in hand when two explosions shook the building.

Panicked, Romano shouted, "That's my brother!"

Outside, smoke and smalls fires could be seen on the branches and in the bushes of the farthest trees. Behind the bushes, Ludwig found Gilbert with his body draped over the still bodies of Matthew and Feliciano.

Alfred and Romano fell to their knees and cradled their brothers in their arms.

"Mattie?" Alfred cried. "Wake up, Mattie." Blood dripped from the bullet wounds in Matthew's chest but his eyes stayed closed and his chest stayed still. It was clear that whoever'd shot the three had been aiming for anywhere but their heads. It was when Yao realized this that he knew who'd ambushed the last group. The Church of the Dead.

"Feliciano" Romano whispered as Antonio looked on, his eyes dead. "You have to come back, Feliciano. This isn't funny, you know? I know you can't die. So hurry up and come back" he choked a little. "Please, Feliciano? Please come back. I'll be a better older brother. I'll be nice to you all the time, and I won't hit you when you cry. Just open your eyes."

Ludwig didn't say anything. He just held his brother's head on his lap and rocked.

Yao and Kiku went into the woods to find at least a dozen burnt corpses and guns. It seemed like Gilbert's sacrifice was what had bought Feliciano enough time to kill whoever had ambushed them.

Yao cursed himself. They never should have left the three outside.

As Kiku and Yao went around silencing the corpses, one of the survivors- the only survivor- grabbed a gun. His eyes were wild, his hair singed, as he said, "This land is for the dead!"

Angered, Kiku said, "Then die." And he cut the man's head off.

* * *

When Kiku and Yao came back, the brothers were still in the same position, and none of the bodies had been silenced. Soon, they would begin to turn and bite, and if that happened, it would be what happened with Ivan all over again.

In the end, he had Antonio restrain Romano, who screamed and kicked and yelled for his brother to "Come the hell back!" He had Kiku take Gilbert's body away from Ludwig, who was barely responsive, and he almost had Francis and Arthur restrain Alfred, but Alfred insisted that he do his own brother, and Feliciano too if his brother couldn't take it. Because they had to be killed by someone who regretted it.

Hearing this, Ludwig asked for Kiku's katana, and quieted his own brother, saying, "Gute nacht, bruder. Treffen wir uns wieder."

Sobbing, Romano managed to straddle his brother's slender body, and slip the katana through his brother's thin neck. "Ti voglio bene, fratellino."

Next, Alfred took the katana. He tried to fix Matthew's hair so it looked the way it did when he was alive. Maybe he was stalling, but it was important to him. Feeling the eyes of the others on him, he raised the blade over his brother's brain stem, and plunging it down, said, "I love you, Mattie."

* * *

There wasn't much to do after that. They buried the bodies of their brothers and the bodies of the other retrieval team, but they left the bodies of the church members to rot.

Yao took them to the Trans-Mongolian Railway. It passed snowy mountains and sparkling lakes, but none of them could bring themselves to feel any joy at the sights. Romano kept on thinking how much Feliciano would have loved to paint them, and Alfred kept turning around to point something out to his brother, only to find that he wasn't there.

In about a week's time, they found Yao and Kiku's helicopter. After that, they all climbed in, and Yao flew them to Beijing, where a plane was ready to take them home.

One of the vials was given to the Chinese government for them to mass produce, while the other was left for the Americans to give to their government. However, when Alfred and the others were dropped off at the President's bunker, they found that the place had been burned to the ground. It seemed the radical members of the Church had bombed the bunker soon after the take off of the underground plane gave away its location.

"What the fuck?" Alfred said, his knees shaking as he observed the broken remains of the place where their mission had started, where they were supposed to return the vial. "What is this?" He asked no one in particular. The gray skies began to drop rain as he screamed, "What the fuck did we all die for?!"

* * *

No matter what, Alfred couldn't make himself get rid of the vial. Everytime he looked into it he imagined he could see Matthew's, Gilbert's, and Feliciano's smiling faces.

Ludwig went his own way, even though Antonio begged him to stay with him and Romano, he just refused. He'd barely spoken a word since Gilbert died.

Just as Ludwig was about to walk away into the rain and the mist, Alfred forced out the words, " Ludwig! Are you sure you'll be all right?"

Ludwig turned and smiled, but there was something disturbingly off about it. It didn't reach his eyes. "Of course." He responded. "The awesome West is always all right."

Alfred shivered.

After he walked away, Francis and Arthur offered to stay with Alfred, but Alfred also refused to stay with other people, especially not with them. It wasn't their fault that they hadn't lost anyone, and yet, some irrational part of him couldn't forgive them for it, and he didn't want to subject them to that.

Once they had walked out of Alfred's earshot, Arthur turned to Francis as they walked, held out his hand, and said, "Hold my hand. I don't want to lose you."

Francis blinked, confused, so Arthur sighed and tried again, "I don't want to lose you, so hold my hand."

Smiling, Francis reached out and took it.

* * *

He felt lost.

He didn't want to walk anymore. He didn't really want to breath anymore, but he'd promised a little girl he'd let her kill him, and he refused to break his promises, so he asked around, found her new house, and knocked on the door.

Almost immediately, Elizabeth opened it.

"I know I'd said I'd wait until you were strong, but I don't think I can wait anymore."

He didn't know what to do if the girl refused to kill him, but it would probably involve walking up to the nearest zombie, pulling open his neck collar, and saying, "Bite me."

She gave him a cold once over. "Where's your brother?"

"Dead," Alfred replied.

Instead of kicking him in the shin and slamming the door in his face like he'd expected, she gave her adopted parents a quick glance, turned back to him, and said, "Kneel down."

Her tone threw him for a loop. It didn't sound harsh like he'd expected, she just sounded firm, and yet, there was a softness hidden in her stern words that reminded him of Arthur. Yes, the little girl was definitely English.

Still in a daze and unbalanced, Alfred knelt before her. He practically fell to his knees. That was when the girl did the last thing Alfred had expected. Gently, she wrapped his arms around his neck, and said, "I'll fight you when you're strong. So for now, just stay with us and rest."

The big body in her embrace shook beneath her arms as the hardened layers fell off off of him, until all she cradled was a crying boy who had just lost his only brother and his best friend.

**The End**

* * *

**Gute Nacht, bruder. Treffen wir uns wieder - Goodnight, brother. We'll meet again.**

**Ti voglio bene, fratellino - I love you, little brother**


End file.
